Wonderful
by GarryxMrChairFan
Summary: It sometimes amazed Sam just how much of an idiot his brother was. How Castiel put up with him, he'd never know. Destiel, minor Sabriel.


**What is this? A new one-shot from Chair after a MONTH AND A HALF of nothing? le gasp! Sorry I haven't been active, guys. Life just... sucks. But I'm working my way out of the slump, don't you worry! **

**Anyway, here's a prompt fill (of sorts) for Kat and her friend Savannah! Savannah actually sent the prompt to Kat, who then needed help on it and asked me for ideas. I didn't get back to her in time, but my idea was too good to not expand and finish (and she agreed) so I finished it anyway! The prompt was a conversation about how "wonderful" is a word used only by those who are old or gay, and Savannah wanted it to happen between Sam and Dean with eventual Destiel. **

**Set mid-to-late season 5. Very, very slight AU-ish qualities, because I can't write full-on canonverse to save my life. Enjoy~**

* * *

_**Wonderful **_

GarryxMrChairFan

* * *

.

.

Dean was an idiot. Sam knew this, knew it better than anyone, really, but it still amazed him sometimes just how unbelievably _dense_ Dean could be. He would forever be in awe of the never-ending patience Castiel had with his brother, because, as much as he loved Dean - and he did, more than anything - Sam was just totally done.

Sam sat curled on his motel bed, laptop balanced on his legs and surreptitiously glancing over at the motel room's small table where his brother had their weapons spread out for cleaning. Dean had the polish out to shine the silver knives until they blinded and Cas had flown off to get more of the polish since they were low.

The familiar sound of sheets being snapped in the wind filled the air and Sam turned his attention back to his computer, watching from his peripheral, as Cas appeared beside Dean, holding out the plastic bag containing his spoils from the store.

"I have obtained more of the metal polish, Dean," he announced. "The store was out of the particular brand you are using currently, but I was assured this would be an adequate substitute."

"Wonderful," Dean said, shooting a brief smile up at the angel before returning to the blades. "Thanks, Cas."

Cas sat beside Dean, picking up another knife and rag. "Do you mind if I help, Dean?"

Dean glanced over and shook his head. "Knock yourself out."

Sam rolled his eyes with a snicker at the mildly confused look the angel threw Dean, biting his lip at the glare Dean shot him, but the room remained silent after that as Dean and Cas cleaned the weapons, Sam searching for their next case. He didn't miss the way Cas leaned into Dean's "personal space" or how whenever he reached for more cleaner their hands brushed slightly and Dean subconsciously flinched before relaxing again, and he sighed.

Dean was an idiot, and Sam was _so done_.

* * *

.

"It just doesn't make any sense, Sam."

Sam huffed, swinging open the door of the _Motel Room du jour_ and tossing his bag onto the bed farthest from him. He loosened his tie while his brother sat on the other bed, shrugging out of his jacket.

"I know, Dean," he agreed, pulling out his laptop. "But all the evidence points that way."

Dean scoffed, running a hand through his hair as he began unbuttoning his crisp white shirt. "Sammy, the 'evidence' is claims that 'something big, shadowy, with red eyes and large teeth' is pulling kids out of their beds at night." He huffed as he threw the shirt into his bag. "If I didn't know the son of a bitch doesn't exist, I'd say it sounds like the friggin' Boogeyman."

"I _know,_ Dean," Sam groaned, opening his computer.

It was an odd case for sure, but all the families they'd spoken with all said the same thing: that their kids, all between the ages of five and ten, had woken them up screaming in the middle of the night that the Boogeyman was out to get them. Three families said they had kids dragged under their beds, two of which had been found dead with what looked like chunks bitten out of them, and one who'd escaped and said she'd been kept in complete darkness before the sun came up and she was able to get away.

Nothing was making any sense, and Sam was about to pull his hair out in frustration. And not only because of the case.

"There are no traces of either demonic or angelic presences in any of the children's rooms," came the monotonous tone of their resident Angel of the Lord, and Sam bit back a chuckle as Dean whirled on Cas, hand against his chest and breathing heavily from the surprise pop-in.

"That's wonderful, Cas," Dean grumbled, rubbing his face. He took a step back, putting an actual foot of space between him and the angel. "So Heaven and Hell aren't involved, good to know."

Castiel looked simultaneously unamused at Dean's tone and saddened at the increased distance between him and Dean, holding out a bag — dripping in grease, _eugh_ — instead of retorting. "I've also brought lunch."

Dean grinned, snatching the bag and parking himself on the faded and worn couch in front of the TV in the room. "Now _that's _wonderful," he murmured as he pulled out one of the no doubt _many _burgers Cas had brought. "You're the best, Cas."

The angel looked quietly pleased with himself, following Dean to the couch, and Sam rolled his eyes with a fond shake of his head; those two were going to suffocate him with all the sexual tension between them. He caught the small salad Dean threw at him with the side of his head, and he glared at his brother's innocent smile as he grumbled and ate. "Jerk," he muttered.

"Bitch," Dean grinned back, mouth full of burger. "Anyway, was there any trace of _anything _in those kids' rooms? Anything to tell us what we're hunting here?"

Castiel shook his head. "Not that I detected."

Sam sighed again, scrolling through recent news feeds for the small town. "There haven't been any recent deaths, besides the two kids, so we've ruled out typical spirits and whatnot. It's not anything with a solid, tangible form, based on how the kid who lived described it." He stabbed his salad a bit harsher than necessary. "We're stuck."

The room was quiet for a moment as they thought, before Cas piped up. "Were there any symbols in the rooms or houses, or on anything of the children's that caught your attention?"

Sam looked at the angel. "You think something was summoned? I thought you said it wasn't demons."

"I did," Cas replied, "but there are other creatures out there that are tied to runes and sigils."

And it was like a light came on in his head. Sam let his head fall back and groaned again. "Tulpa," he said. "Dammit."

Dean mimicked the groan. "A Tulpa? Seriously?"

"It makes sense, Dean," Sam said. "The fact that everything points to it being the Boogeyman despite the fact that the Boogeyman doesn't exist. It's perfect, really. Just about any kid believes in the Boogeyman."

"Yeah, which means there's also not a way to gank it," Dean grumbled. "Not unless we can start gettin' enough kids to believe it can be killed with salt rounds and iron."

Sam shrugged, tossing his empty salad container aside. "It could be worth a try," he said. "Wait with one of the kids, see if we can't catch it when it attacks, and protect the kid long enough to convince him that we can kill it with our stuff."

"You really think that will work?" Dean asked. His tone dripped with skepticism.

"Well, the salt and iron _will _repel it initially," Sam pointed out. "If the kids sees that, he'd be more apt to believe it could be killed. Word will spread eventually."

"That still does not help us know which child it will come after next," Castiel mused. "There are still many children in the appropriate age range left undisturbed for now, and it could come after any of them."

Sam frowned in thought before a flash of paper, a crudely scribbled symbol scratched onto it in blue Crayola, popped into his head. "Actually, I think I do," he said slowly. "When I was talking to the Williams' kids, the son had a piece of paper with the symbol for summoning a Tulpa on it in his room. I saw the same exact one at the Smiths yesterday, though. I'm thinking maybe the kids are passing the paper around and the Tulpa is following it. Maybe getting rid of it will get rid of the Tulpa?"

"Figures." Dean rolled his eyes, leaning back against the couch. Castiel moved to seat himself beside Dean, who subtly and subconsciously leaned into the angel's proximity before moving back again, reaching again into the bag of food and pulling out a small box, setting it in Dean's lap. Sam once again held back a snigger at the delighted look on his brother's face at the dessert.

"So." Dean jabbed his fork into the slice of pie, putting the bite into his mouth and moaning around it before removing the fork for another piece. "Stakeout at the Williams' tonight?"

Sam shared a look with Castiel, then nodded with a shrug at his brother.

Dean smirked, eating another bite of the pie. "Wonderful."

* * *

.

The diner was nearly empty despite it being five past noon in the middle of the work week, though the light rain was probably what was putting people off of going out for lunch, now that Sam thought about it. At least it was quiet, he mused, sipping at his cup of fresh-brewed coffee, typing away on his laptop.

Dean was up at the counter, smiling at the girl taking orders. She was petite, blonde, with a big grin and so red in the face that she looked ready to pass out from embarrassment. His brother had the charm cranked up to eleven, had his flirt up to nine, and Sam wanted to bash his face against the table.

Because Cas, sitting across from Sam, looked so friggin' miserable, staring despondently at the plate of chicken and waffles Dean had ordered before deciding he needed extra bacon and sausage links to complete his breakfast.

Sam set his coffee aside, looking at the angel with sympathy. "You okay there, Cas?" he asked quietly.

In one of the few human gestures he'd managed to learn, Castiel shrugged, his eyes staying on the plate. The syrup was beginning to pool at the center between the waffles. "Physically, I know I'm fine," he answered eventually, "but… there's a tightness in my chest and I feel unwarranted irritation that I cannot explain." He paused, glancing over to Dean. "It seems to happen only when Dean performs his 'flirting' with the women he comes across."

Sam nodded in understanding. "It's not as unwarranted as you might think," he muttered, glancing with Cas at his brother, who was now leaning over the counter as he chuckled with the waitress. "Actually, I think you're very entitled to it."

"But what is it, Sam?" Castiel asked, looking up at him with his blue eyes full of sadness he probably didn't even realize he was feeling. "I don't… why am I feeling it?"

"Well_,_" Sam said, "it's what we humans call jealousy. It happens when the people we love… seem interested in someone else." Thoughts of a certain trickster-archangel flitted through his mind, and Sam shook them away.

Castiel was quiet as he mulled the new knowledge over, lips tight. "I don't like it," he finally said. "It is… disagreeable."

"Yeah, well, so's Dean's obliviousness," Sam sighed. "It's becoming tangibly painful to watch."

Cas' brow furrowed, and he returned his gaze to the waffles. "Is…" He bit his lip, and Sam waited for him to continue. "… is being in love always so unpleasant?" He sounded small, and Sam's heart clenched seeing such a powerful being looking so… human.

Sam was definitely gonna rip Dean a new one as soon as they were alone.

Shaking his head, Sam gave the angel as encouraging of a smile as he could. "Not always," he said. "Sure, there are moments when everyone wonders if it's worth it, but when it's just you and the one you love and nothing else seems to matter? It's hard to remember why you ever questioned it."

Cas was watching him intently, and Sam shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny before the angel spoke softly. "I believe I understand. When I'm able to spend time with Dean, I feel as if I never left Heaven, and everything is right."

Sam chuckled, taking a sip of his cooling coffee. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

Cas' lips twitched up before he continued. "But he… he doesn't seem to feel the same, and it makes my chest ache to think about."

"Oh, trust me," Sam scoffed, "Dean feels the same." He smiled as the angel seemed to light up from the inside. "He's just… dense. And an idiot. And not one to talk about his feelings, especially when they're the kind he's purposefully ignored all his life."

"You're referencing his feelings regarding attraction to males, yes?"

"That's part of it," Sam agreed. "I mean, he's not against it, objectively — you know, other people he's cool with and everything — but I don't think he thinks of it as something that applies to himself. But part of it's also the fact that, well," Sam shrugged, "everything we ever seem to love ends up dead, sooner or later."

Castiel's eyes were on Dean again, and Sam was starting to wonder exactly how long it took to make a plate of bacon and links.

"Dean doesn't believe he deserves love," the angel murmured, brow furrowing again.

Sam nodded. "There's that too, yeah."

"He puts his happiness below that of others," Cas added, turning back to the plate of waffles. "It's… frustrating, I suppose, that he won't let himself be happy. That's all I want, Sam." He sounded pleading. "I want to give him the happiness he deserves, whether with me or not."

Sam smiled. "Yeah, don't think I haven't noticed you flirting with him," he teased, and laughed when Cas ducked his head. "And you _do _make him happy, Cas. He's just…" Sam took a breath, letting it out slowly, "… bad at accepting that he might actually get to be happy without giving something up in exchange." He leaned forward, reaching out a hand to pat the angel on the arm. "Just keep doin' what you're doin', Cas. He'll come around eventually."

"Who'll come around to what?"

Sam and Cas sat back as Dean _finally _joined them again, sliding into the booth next to the angel with a plate full of hot bacon and sausage, along with another cup of coffee. He pulled the plate of soggy waffles and chicken back in front of him, picking up the ketchup bottle. Sam rolled his eyes as Castiel contented himself with watching Dean, like always.

"Nothing, Dean," Sam said, pulling his computer towards him again. "Just talkin' with Cas."

Dean gave him a look, and Sam didn't miss how his jaw tightened slightly. "Yeah, okay," he finally allowed, dipping one of the strips of chicken into the pool of ketchup he'd squirted onto his plate. "Anyway, you find anything in the area?"

Sam shook his head. "Doesn't look like there's anything here, unless you just absolutely want to go ask Ms. …" Sam squinted at the article on the screen, "Wilkinson about her recently deceased husband."

Dean quirked an eyebrow. "Is it suspicious?" he asked sarcastically.

Sam snorted. "Only how the pool guy apparently gained a quarter of the fortune, but I don't think I wanna know."

Dean made a face. "Ew, Sam. Just ew."

Sam sniggered, closing the laptop and finishing off his coffee. He reached across the table, taking a strip of chicken for himself and smirking at his brother's glare. "There does seem to be something a couple states over, though. You feelin' up to a good ol' salt 'n burn?"

"Sounds wonderful, Sammy," Dean grinned, stuffing a bite of waffle into his mouth along with half a link and a piece of bacon. Sam grimaced at the sheer fattiness of the food. "We'll head out after I'm done here." Taking a swig of his coffee, Dean pushed the plate of bacon over in front of Cas with a smile. "Here, Cas. Help me out. Bacon's the food of God."

Cas tilted his head, poking skeptically at the strips in front of him. "God doesn't eat, Dean," he reminded, but his tone sounded curious, as if he would like to ask Him anyway.

"Dude, it's bacon." Dean gave the angel a look. "Just try it."

Sighing like he was the most put-upon being in the universe (which Sam figured he probably was), Castiel picked up a single strip of bacon, bringing it to his mouth and biting into it. It gave a satisfying crunch, and the angel looked surprised as he chewed.

"It's very good, Dean," he said. He picked up another piece and Dean grinned.

"Told ya, Cas. Food of God. Wonderful."

Sam rolled his eyes.

If the things they hunted didn't get him first, these two were going to be the end of him, he was sure of it.

* * *

.

"And you're _sure _just locking them in the same room isn't going to work? 'Cause I think it might. It would definitely be hilarious, you have to admit."

Sam was seriously considering just how much he really did, in fact, love his hair. Because at this point he was a second away from pulling it out. Candy-eating, prank-pulling, archangels-turned-tricksters weren't helping. At _all. _

"Nah, your hair's one of the Wonders of the World, Sammy. It'd be a shame to lose it."

Sam did have to admit that Gabriel's fingers running through it felt nice. Maybe it _would_ be a shame to lose it.

"But seriously, though. You're _sure_ it wouldn't work?"

"I'm _sure, _Gabriel," Sam bit out, slumping down against the headboard of his motel bed. He and Gabriel were watching the soap opera that was their brothers' slow (_so _slow, Sam was sure _icebergs _melted faster) developing romance.

Cas and Dean were seated on the couch, one of Dean's favorite shows playing a rerun marathon that he was catching up on while simultaneously commentating for the angel to keep in the loop of what was happening. Not that Castiel understood much, but he seemed content to sit next to Dean because that meant they were spending time together. Sam didn't want to call it "sad" per se, but it was kinda sad that _Dr. Sexy MD _was basically the epitome of "spending quality time with the (as yet uninformed of the situation) significant other." Being that the clueless "significant other" was Dean, Sam couldn't exactly hold it against his friend.

Gabriel huffed dramatically, flopping down over Sam's lap. He pulled a bag of Skittles and a sucker out of his pocket. "C'mon, Sammy! Nothing's _definitely _gonna happen if we just _sit here._"

This was true, but Sam didn't trust the archangel where his brother was concerned. Dean was still sore about the last prank Gabriel had pulled; he wasn't taking chances.

Gabriel rolled his eyes and tossed back a handful of Skittles. "Such a spoilsport, Sammy. Thanks for being a buzzkill."

"If a buzz is all I'm killing, I'll take it," Sam muttered, crossing his arms.

"Will you two Chatty Kathys put a sock in it?" Dean grumbled from his spot, leaning his head back to glare upside down at Sam and Gabriel. "I'm trying to watch a show, here."

"Ooh, whatcha say, Sammykins?" Gabriel turned bright gold eyes up to Sam, waggling his eyebrows in that suggestive way that sent bolts of fear and anticipation through Sam's veins. "You wanna stuff your sock in—"

"What the ever-loving fuck!" Dean groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "I swear to God, Gabriel, I don't give a fuck that you're an archangel, I _will _shove your angel blade up your ass if you don't _shut up!_"

Gabriel hummed thoughtfully, and Sam buried his face in his hands, too. "Oh, I know what I'd like shoved up my ass, Deano, and it certainly isn't _my _sword."

The great thing about being a heavenly being was that the silver knife Dean hurled at Gabriel didn't actually hurt him, and the archangel just cackled manically as it embedded itself in his abdomen. Sam glared at him as he pulled it out, twirling it in his hand with a smirk on his lips.

Castiel rested a calming hand on Dean's arm as he breathed heavily, slouching back down into the couch. Sam flopped back on his bed with a groan. "You're such a dick, Gabe," Sam said. "You deserved that."

"Ah, I know," Gabriel said cheerfully. "I didn't like this shirt, anyway."

Sam rolled his eyes and smiled, tugging on the archangel's shirt to pull him closer and press a kiss to his temple. He and Gabriel turned their attention to Castiel as the angel stood, heading to the cooler and bringing Sam's brother back a beer to help settle his irritation. Dean perked right up.

"Just wonderful, Cas," Dean sighed after the first long pull, and Castiel looked at him fondly, a hint of a half-smile on his face as he seated himself back at Dean's side. Dean shifted closer, throwing his arm over the back of the couch behind the angel. "Now, where were we with this?"

Sam and Gabriel shared a look, both of them biting their lips to hold back groans.

Something was going to have to give. This was just ridiculous.

* * *

.

Dean stood out on Bobby's front porch, beer in hand as he wiped sweat from his brow. The summer was hotter than it'd been in a while, and the air was muggy with humidity. Perfect day for washing Baby.

He smiled over at Cas, the angel perched on the front porch swing Bobby had scrounged up from somewhere with a book in his lap. Cas returned it with his intense stare and the slightest quirk of his lips before returning to his book. Dean could see Sammy and Shortstack lounging in a patch of grass a few feet away, whispering to themselves as they cloud-watched like girls. Bobby was inside, buried in some ancient tome or another that he'd recently gotten.

Dean took another swig of his beer as he headed over to the Impala, smiling at her sleek form as he brought over buckets of water. He opened all the doors to air her out, turning on the radio and cranking up the volume until Sam shot him a bitchface, and Dean just grinned back at him.

"Well, Baby, time for a bath," he murmured to his car. "You'll be shinin' like new in no time, sweetheart."

The whole day was lazy and carefree, despite the hanging threats that followed them wherever they went. Dean sang along to the songs playing from the Impala's radio, stretching out his muscles as he soaped her up and rinsed her down. He'd ditched his shirt about ten minutes in, the sun beating down relentlessly. Sam and Gabriel made lunch for them all a couple hours later, and Dean took a break to eat on the porch next to Cas, his brother and the archangel seated on the porch steps. Even Bobby came out to join them with a beer.

"I'm gonna have to go grocery shoppin' soon if ya idjits keep on eatin' me outta house and home," Bobby grumbled, sipping on his beer.

"What can we say, Bobby?" Gabriel grinned, biting into the sandwich Sam had forced into his hands. "We love cookin' and you have the food!"

Bobby eyed the archangel critically. "What happened to conjurin' your food outta thin air?"

Gabriel winked. "It comes from somewhere, Bobby."

They all snorted and chuckled at that, and Dean grinned as he took another swig from his own beer. "Ah, we'll go for ya, Bobby," he said. "We've been intrudin' on ya anyway. Least we can do."

Bobby nodded in thanks. "I'll leave ya a shoppin' list, then. You can make a day of it."

Dean sniggered, tilting his beer in acknowledgement. "Wonderful."

Sam snorted, taking a sip of his beer and giving Dean an amused look. "You sure say that a lot, Dean."

Dean looked over at his brother, beer still at his lips. "What?"

"'Wonderful'," Sam clarified, setting his plate aside. "It's just… I don't know, I don't hear it a lot."

Dean frowned, feeling defensive. "So what?"

Sam shrugged. "No one says it much anymore, is all I'm saying. Well, unless you're old or gay." He gave Dean another pointed look, but this time Dean didn't know what he meant.

"Dude, I'm only four years older than you," Dean pointed out, sharing a look with Cas, who was, as always, watching him raptly. This time, however, there seemed to be something more in his blue-as-fuck eyes, as if he was hoping for something to happen. Dean looked back at Sam. "Plus, Cas is a couple millennia old, and Chuckles over there is older than balls, too!"

"Hey!" Gabriel protested. "They're a very nice set of balls, thank you very much!"

He was ignored, Sam just shaking head in exasperation, and Dean suddenly felt like he'd missed _something. _"That… wasn't what I meant, Dean," Sam sighed, finishing off his beer. He gave Dean another, almost pitying, look before standing. Gabriel joined him, and Dean was left sitting on the porch, confused.

"What's his problem?" he muttered. Looking over at Bobby, the man just shook his head and walked off, muttering something about "blind idjits" and "he's hopeless" as he went back in the house.

Dean huffed and turned to Cas, words to the effect of _what the fuck was that about?_ on his tongue dying off as he saw the utterly… _dejected _look on the angel's face. Something in his chest lurched painfully at that look, and Dean suddenly wanted to hurt whatever had put that blank look into those blue eyes.

"Cas?" he asked carefully, reaching out to rest a hand on the angel's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Unexpectedly, Cas shrugged his hand off and stood, remaining silent and walking off. Dean sat stunned on the porch, watching the familiar trench coat billow out slightly as the angel swept into the house, leaving Dean alone out in the heat of the summer, the radio still playing over in the yard.

_What the hell?_ Dean thought, frowning and slumping back against the swing. That was… odd. Weird, even. Dean wasn't sure exactly what he'd done, and apparently he was the only one that wasn't getting it.

He sat quietly for several more long moments, finishing his beer and tossing away the bottle before heading back over to the Impala. He continued his washing, letting the swipes of the sponge and the music blaring distract him from the uncomfortable thoughts trying to fill his head, the, well, _hurt _filling his chest at the replay of Cas walking away without even telling him what was up.

Anger filled him instead, his strokes becoming harsher as he leaned across the hood of his car. Okay, so he did something wrong, but _leaving him in the dark about it _wasn't going to help him fix it. He wasn't sure what he did wrong in the first place. Hell, he _hadn't _done anything! They were all fine up until Sammy and his stupid comment on Dean's choice of words!

Dean threw the sponge back into one of the buckets a bit harder than necessary, the brown, sudsy water splashing up and wetting the dirt on the ground. It wasn't even like it was an offensive word. So what if he said "wonderful" all the time? He liked it! It was a great word! Picking up the hose, Dean began rinsing the Impala of the soap, grumbling under his breath. Whatever. If they weren't even gonna tell him what was wrong, then he wasn't going to worry about it. They'd get over it.

_Unless you're old or gay. _Dean grit his teeth with a snort. Sure, he'd been in Hell for forty years, but he wasn't that old, so that really didn't make any sense. And he wasn't gay — he pointedly ignored the little voice in his head whispering _are you _sure_? I mean, have you _looked _at him? Utterly gorgeous inside and out and you know it, Dean_ and shoved it back down into the deepest pit of his mind — so that didn't make any sense, either. So really, none of it made sense, and he couldn't see why they'd all made such a big deal about it.

The look in Cas' eyes, though. Dean's grip on the hose tightened, and an uncomfortable roll in his gut — _guilt _— made him clench his fist. That was… that was _heartbreak. _That was _rejection. _And God, did it hurt seeing it in those eyes, in the slump of the angel's shoulders. The way he'd just walked off without a word to Dean; Dean, who he'd always seek out about things he didn't understand because Dean could explain it and help him. Dean, who he put his trust, his _faith, _in, despite every bad thing Dean had done, every bad thing Dean _was. _

Dean didn't like his angel looking like that. Especially not because of Dean.

Rubbing his face and ignoring his thoughts, Dean finished with Baby and put the buckets and sponges away, walking into the house and wiping sweat from his brow again. The air conditioning felt like a soothing balm on his skin as he headed into the house, straight for the kitchen and the refrigerator for another beer. He opened it on the edge of the counter, taking a long swig before turning and sauntering into the living room.

Cas was seated on the couch, book in hand once again. Sam and Gabriel were playing chess over in the corner, and Bobby was at his desk in his study. Dean took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact with everyone as he took a seat next to the angel, slumping down into the cushions as he grabbed the TV remote.

He was halfway through an episode of some reality show when he felt Cas shift, looking up just in time to see the angel stand and walk away, heading upstairs. Dean caught Sam's eye briefly before his brother turned back to his game with the archangel, and Dean turned back to the TV, ignoring yet another clench in his chest.

And it went on like that for the rest of their time at Bobby's. Anytime Dean found himself in the same room as his angel, Cas would remain only a handful of minutes more before departing, finding somewhere else to be.

At first, Dean could ignore it. Okay, so Cas was pissed. Or something. He'd get over it. Then it dragged on into a month, then two, then three, and Dean started _noticing. _

He noticed when Cas didn't offer to help clean their weapons anymore; the angel would simply get him what he needed, if anything, and fly off to take care of "other business" (as he'd told Sam when his little brother asked).

He noticed when Cas stopped bringing them — _him _— lunch or dinner; Sam had to start dragging him out to make sure he ate, because Gabriel only ever brought food for Sam.

He noticed when Cas was absent from his side when he marathoned _Dr. Sexy, MD_ between hunts while they relaxed before moving on to the next unfortunate town; it was suddenly much colder in the room when he became aware of his angel's missing presence.

He noticed all the little things he'd taken for granted, because he'd assumed Cas would just… always be there: the way he'd just appear, a soft _Hello, Dean_ on his lips; the inane, silly little questions he'd ask because he didn't understand the reference; the way he just didn't seem to understand the concept of "personal space" (though as Dean thought about it, it was less "personal space" and more "_Dean's_ personal space.").

He noticed the ache in his chest grow every time he realized it was his fault Cas was avoiding him, because that's what it was.

He noticed just how much he missed Cas, and how much he just wanted his angel back.

Dean finally understood what Sam had meant, and he couldn't believe he was such a fucking idiot.

Tossing his bag into the corner of the motel room after their most recent hunt, Dean collapsed onto his chosen bed with a sigh. Sam meandered in after him, shrugging out of his coat — stained with guts, ew — and heading to the bathroom with his bag for a shower. Dean remembered his own jacket had a large bloodstain on one arm and there was a tear in his jeans along one leg, and he groaned, rubbing a hand on his face.

Fucking witches.

Sam exited the bathroom ten minutes later, dressed in one of his nicer button-down shirts and the cleanest pair of jeans he had. Dean gave him a questioning look as he stood, walking past his brother to take his own shower. He didn't miss the whiff of cologne, either.

"Hot date tonight?" he smirked, stripping out of his shirt.

Sam just shrugged, giving him those understanding eyes that made Dean's stomach jump uncomfortably because they usually led to chick-flick moments, and he was so not in the mood for that right now. "Gabriel wanted to go out. Figured it was easier to just go along with it."

Despite evidence to the contrary, Dean wasn't stupid, and he nodded slowly, feeling a brief rush of gratefulness for the archangel's subtle kick in the ass. Speak of the devil (or, well, devil's brother), Gabriel popped in next to Sam a second later, dressed in his own nice button-down and jeans, sucker stick in his mouth.

"Ready to hit the town, Sammich?" he asked brightly, bumping Sam's side with his shoulder. Sam nodded, and Gabriel turned to Dean, pointing a finger at him. His eyes were hard and the usual smirk was gone. "I will say this once, Deano: break my little brother's heart again, and I will personally throw you back into the Pit so deep not even my Dad will be able to pull you back out."

Dean grit his teeth and nodded. He'd crawl back to the Pit on his own if he ever hurt Cas like that again.

Gabriel grinned, tense moment over, clapping his hands together once. "Glad we understand each other! Now, c'mon, Sammy! We've got reservations and the night ain't gettin' any younger!" With that, his brother and the archangel disappeared, leaving Dean to his own devices, alone in the motel room.

Dean sniffed and turned back to the bathroom to take his shower, feeling the congealing blood from the knife wound on his calf tugging as he removed his jeans. The water pressure sucked and Dean was pretty sure the place's water heater didn't work for more than five goddamn minutes, so he only stayed in long enough to rinse the blood down and wash his hair. The gash on his leg was gonna need stitches.

Dressed in a T-shirt and his underwear (because he sure as hell wasn't going out again, not with his throbbing, sewn-up leg) Dean sat back on the foot of his bed and rested his elbows on his knees, listening to the quiet of the room. Car horns sounded and the wind rattled the flagpole outside the room's window, but other than that it was just Dean and his breathing.

He figured it was now or never.

"Hey, Cas." He stared down at a dark patch on the god-awful turquoise carpet as he spoke. Jesus, why did hotels never have anyone that had even a hint of interior decorator in them? "I, uh, I really need to talk to you, man. It's… it's important."

Silence, and Dean wasn't even mad about it. "This is gettin' ridiculous." Well, maybe a little. "C'mon, Cas, I can't fix it if you won't even hear me out. This is…" He took a deep breath, tilting his head up to glare at the ceiling. "This is something that should be done face-to-face, so get your lily white ass down here so I can _talk to you._"

Still nothing, and Dean threw his hands up, letting them fall back to his lap. "Fine, whatever. I get it, Cas. You're mad. I… I really can't blame ya. I'm an idiot and I deserve the cold shoulder, I know. But… but I can't... Cas, I can't stand not having you here. It's tearing me up, Cas, and I just wanna see you again."

Okay, so he hadn't actually planned on becoming one with his inner girl, but at this point Dean couldn't find a single fuck to give. "I _miss _you, Cas," he said, staring at his hands. "Dammit, I know I don't deserve you but I need you, Cas. I need to know if I've fucked over the one good thing I got to have after everything I've done. Have I, Cas? Have I totally ruined this?"

His breathing seemed louder in the stillness of the room, and Dean let himself fall back onto the bed, staring up but not really seeing.

"I'm sorry, Cas," he muttered, letting his eyes slip closed. "I get it now. I get what Sammy meant, and I'm sorry it took so fucking long. I can't really blame ya for not wanting anything to do with me." He smiled wryly to himself. "Who'd want a hell-bound, damned and tainted soul like me, huh?"

A dip in the bed and a gentle hand on his cheek made Dean open his eyes, staring up at the familiar ones of his angel, the blue glowing even in the lack of light.

"You are not a tainted soul, Dean Winchester," Cas said softly, and Dean's breath hitched on a scoff at the intensity of that blue gaze, severe and tender at the same time. "You shine purer than any other soul I've seen in my two millennia, despite everything you've been forced to endure and bear."

Dean swallowed thickly. "Cas…"

The angel's other hand came up to cup his other cheek, silencing Dean. Cas leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together, and Dean found his arms reaching to wrap around his angel in a loose hug, pulling Cas on top of him. It felt nice to have him in his arms, pressed against him after so many months without him.

"You are so very precious, Dean," Cas murmured, and Dean could feel their breaths mingling. "I will always put my faith in you and follow wherever you lead. You are more deserving than you think."

Dean chuckled without humor. "I'm really not, Cas." He tightened his hold on the angel, his heart pounding against his chest. He was sure Cas could feel it against his own.

Cas pulled back just enough to brush their noses together, catching Dean's eyes with his own. "Then I will spend the rest of my existence convincing you otherwise." He smiled, a true smile that stole Dean's breath, and leaned up to press a kiss to Dean's forehead, before moving down to brush their lips together, the touch lighter than air.

Dean licked his lips, tasting the hint of fresh rain and ozone and _power _that was his angel lingering there, before smiling up at Cas, lopsided and cocky, because that's what he knew best. "So… does that mean you forgive me?"

Gentle fingers carded through his hair as Cas looked at him fondly, mixed with the barest hint of guilt. "I forgave you the moment I walked away that day at Bobby's," he admitted, looking away. Shame was on his face, and Dean tightened his arms around Cas again. "You were not at fault for failing to understand Sam's, admittedly fairly subtle, implication."

"Then why the third degree, man?" Dean asked, a hint of petulance in his tone. Yeah, he'd deserved it, but still. He was only human.

Cas looked back at him, still running his fingers through Dean's hair. It felt really nice. "I'm still new to emotions, Dean. It was… overwhelming, the pain of heartache." The angel looked both in awe and bemused at the recollection, and Dean squeezed him again. "I hadn't expected it to feel… quite like that. And being around you hurt the same, so I tried to distance myself."

He paused, looking down at Dean as if Dean had intentionally left out important information, and Dean tried not to smile at the lost puppy look. "No one told me it would hurt just as much whether I remained around you or not."

Dean did chuckle that time. "Welcome to being in love, Cas, where everything hurts for no goddamn reason, and at the end of the day, it's all worth it anyway." And if that wasn't the sappiest thing he'd ever said, Dean was worried what might be. "Don't tell anyone I said that," he warned. "Sam'll never let me hear the end of it."

Cas smiled, curling up against Dean and resting his chin on top of his hand, which lay on Dean's chest. His other hand continued carding through Dean's hair. "Of course, Dean."

Dean grinned, leaning his head up as he pulled Cas higher, pressing their lips together in one of the chastest kisses he'd given probably since learning how to kiss. He could feel his angel's smile against his own. Pulling apart, Dean lay his head back on the bed, letting Cas rest his head under his chin, above his heart.

"Wonderful."

**END**

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**Kat: let me know what Savannah thinks! Hope you guys liked it! **

**Much love. :3  
GarryxMrChairFan**


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